


The Wrong Side of Paleontology

by CieldelaRose



Category: Jurassic World Trilogy (Movies), The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Also Matthew isn't dead in this one I really want Emma to be happy yall, Jurassic World AU, M/M, No ressurection full au - sadly no cowboy past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-20 23:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15544218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CieldelaRose/pseuds/CieldelaRose
Summary: Vasquez is a geneticist at InGen, who joined the company in hopes of pursuing his dream of creating biome adaptive dinosaurs. After years in the corporation, he finds himself disillusioned with their lack of ethical practices. In an act of rebellion, Vasquez sends highly classified documents to a man who’s proven to be incorruptible by InGen - Owen Grady. For months, the two rendezvous in secret, to devise a plan to bring InGen down and to release Vasquez from InGen’s clutches. One day, the geneticist stops coming to these meetings.





	The Wrong Side of Paleontology

**Author's Note:**

> A really big shout out to westofnowhere (https://archiveofourown.org/users/westofnowhere), who helped tremendously with soooo many things in this fic (seriously, she improved it a lot) and writinredhead (https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritinRedhead) who did an amazing job with the pacing, and listened to me ramble a lot.

Antonio Vasquez is halfway through writing an email to the head of Paleontology department when Dr. Henry Wu approaches his desk. The chinese-american geneticist is in his usual turtleneck and lab coat, a tablet with the InGen logo under his arm. 

“Dr. Vasquez, how are we on our latest biome-genetics assignment?” The man asks, forgoing any greeting, as he leans on Vasquez’ desk to look at his computer screen. The scientist rifles through his folders rapidly and opens the aforementioned document.

“On schedule, Dr.Wu, and within the specified project success rates.” Vasquez points at the screen, drawing attention to the chart depicting the incubation estimates. The man hums in reply and takes a moment to scan the information.

“We’re aiming for 95% for the next batch of products. You have two weeks to improve the genomes for arctic survivability and three for the next desert-biome enhancement assignment. See that it’s done, doctor.” Dr. Henry turns around and walks off. Under the desk, Vasquez clutches the edge of his shirt. He watches Dr.Wu from the corner of his eye while the man talks to one of their colleagues and switches back to the email he was writing.

In the beginning, working at InGen had been thrilling. Vasquez was the top of his field afterall, working with the best equipment and co-workers while constantly rising to the challenge of any new assignments he was handed.

Two years ago Antonio really thought that he was living the dream. Now, he feels like a different man from the bright-eyed, unburdened scientist that he had been when he’d taken his first steps on the island. Vasquez sighs forlornly, rolling his shoulders.

It’s been a year since he’d received higher clearance, but it feels like much longer. Somehow, he feels like he’s aged more in the last year than in the decade prior.

Vasquez shakes himself out of his slump, the words on his computer screen coming into focus once more. Staring at it doesn’t help, and Vasquez grudgingly finishes the email, sending it off to Dr. Maeki. The rest of the day passes by in a blur.

\---

Vasquez grabs dinner in the cafeteria, making small talk with Goodnight Robicheaux, seated at the far corner of the cantine as he is.

“Hhough wouus hwurk?” ( _How was work?_ ) Vasquez slurs over his mouthful of food, making Goodnight grimace at this blatant lack of decorum.

“Vasquez, please show some of the good Christian manners your mother taught you,” the Cajun drawls at him, handing Vasquez a napkin. The geneticist disregards his offer and doesn’t wait to shove another forkful of meat into his mouth before responding.

“Urr yuue cathhlwic nuw, _muuchwucho?_  "( _Are you catholic now, muchacho_?) He chews and swallows hurriedly, in an effort not to choke. “I thought you weren’t religious?”

Goody’s grimace remains, setting the ignored napkin next to Vasquez’s forearm.

“I’m not,” Goody scratches his goatee, “but I know for a fact that you were raised by a very charming woman who is. She’d tan your hide if she saw you eatin’ like this.” Vasquez waves him off with one hand and violently scarfs down on more food with the other. Goody struggles visibly with the urge to slap the fork out of the geneticist’s hand.

“ _E tu esposo_? Is Billy not joining us today?” Antonio eyes the food tray in front of his friend and briefly scans the room for the man in question.

“Not today, unfortunately. I’m afraid he got rather held up with a security matter,” Goody says, pushing his fingers through his hair as if combing it halfheartedly. “One of the security teams got into a spot of trouble and they had to call him in.”

“He really keeps you on your toes, _eh_?” Antonio teases.

The engineer toys briefly with the ring around his finger and curves his mouth into an enamored smile, seemingly lost in thought. Vasquez takes the opportunity to steal the jelly off the man’s tray and shoves a spoonful in his mouth before he can do anything about it.

“Hraue dud yuou whin hrim uovrr?” ( _How did you win him over?_ ) Vasquez pauses to swallow. “What shakes the heart of a man like Billy Rocks?” 

Goody flicks a piece of red gelatin off his arm, shrugging easily.

“Classic southern charm,” is the nonchalant reply, Goody swiping Vasquez’ pudding in retaliation, “it gets them every time.” The scientist glares at him but magnanimously decides to let it go. Last time they started a food war in the cafeteria, it didn’t go well. _Dona_ Julia threatened to take away his extra servings if they did it again.

“ _En sério_? Billy?” He says incredulously, focusing on the conversation at hand.

“I’m telling you, my friend. Homemade pie and poetry. It’s bound to catch anyone’s heart,” Goody scratches his neck and ponders momentarily, “anyone good and decent, I mean,” he amends.

“Poetry _, eh_?” Vasquez replies quietly as he stirs his spoon, lost in thought.

\---

In the dim light of his apartment, Antonio Vasquez stares at his hands and clutches the dark wood rosary _mamá_ gave him at the at last month’s family dinner.

She had thrust it upon him, saying she was concerned with the kind of church presence they had on the island, or lack thereof. No matter how much he assured her of the quality of life of the workers in the park, she seemed convinced they lived like savages. Always concerned, Rosa Maria, as was her nature. Constantly worried about her children, even after they’ve married, in Sofía’s case. A husband and two beautiful _niños_ , and _mamá_ still called her to ask if she was eating her greens.

Vasquez scoffs. If anything, in his mother’s eyes she gained three more children on the day of his sister’s wedding. She liked to show family photos to anyone who stood still for more than five minutes, and would brag endlessly about her “angelic Asian grand-children”, lack of family resemblance notwithstanding.

At least Sofía didn’t get lectured about finding a partner anymore. 180 miles away, and _mamá_ was still hounding him about the subject every time she called. Antonio didn’t envy Isabella one bit. Living with their parents meant she got lectured for breakfast, lunch and dinner. If there’s one thing he doesn’t miss about living in Mexico, it’s his mother’s various “proposals”.

He could hear her in his mind right now, and in some of his strangest nightmares, talking to him in the sugary-sweet voice she took on whenever she wanted to convince him of something.

_“¿Oh querido, Miguel es tan lindo, no? ¿Conoces la niña da Señora Juana? ¿E Ricardo, eh? ¿No te gustan los jugadores de football?”_

Ugh.

He breathes in deep and clutches the rosary tighter. If his mother knew what her “genius child” is doing for InGen...

Antonio remembers the summer he let three chickens loose in church during morning mass. Several elderly attendees had peed themselves in the cacophony and the next door neighbors’ kid had knocked one of the decorative candle holders on the altar, causing a minor fire. _Mamá_ had him on church cleaning duty for 3 weeks. Father Diego still side-eyes him to this day.

He rubs one of the beads between his fingers, considering. She would do much worse to him right now. Antonio looks to his living room where his dark wood desk sits against the wall, next to one of his horse-themed paintings. On it, settled innocuously next to his lamp, are the lab results for Dr. Wu’s latest assignment. He goes over to the documents and leafs through them.

“An increase of 20% embryo survivability in desert biomes… 80% overall success.”

They hadn’t started field testing the dinosaurs of course, but the results for the Lusosaurus and Ceratosaurus embryos show promise. Two years since relocation to the island and working in research projects for InGen, one year since he was cleared for higher level projects. Vasquez thumbs the page angrily, pressing his fingers in enough to crinkle it. He considers the small photocopier on the other side of his PC.

Antonio’s fingers clench hard enough to tear the side of the Title Page and he breathes in.

“Did you become a geneticist for this, Antonio?”  He murmurs. “Was this what you wanted at nine years old, when you watched all those dinosaur documentaries so many times the cassettes stopped working?” He clenches the rosary so hard his knuckles whiten. “What would _mamá_ think if she knew? _¿E Dios? ¿Ele te perdonaría por eso?_ ”

He opens the printer’s lid, puts the title page inside and growls. “ _No quiso ser un científico para criar armas militares_.” Vasquez copies the whole document and stuffs the pages in one of his unmarked manila folders. Then he tears half of one of the blank pages from the photocopier’s stack.

– You know InGen wants to militarize your velociraptors. It’s time you fully understood what InGen’s plans are for them. You want your animals safe? Meet me in the botanical gardens, near the center fountain, at 1pm. Dress like a visitor. NO GUNS –

The geneticist stuffs the papers into his bag and puts it by the door. That night he barely sleeps, tossing and turning for hours before exhaustion finally sends him into a fretful sleep. He dreams of his mother dragging him out of his office by his ear.

\---

“I can’t believe I’m doing this, _mmmm_ , I can’t believe I’m doing _thiiiss_ ” Vasquez hisses to himself, crouching behind one of the trees around the enclosure.

He spent the day thinking about this, almost giving up when his supervisor showed up to discuss results. In the end, Vasquez had steeled himself and left early, claiming he wasn’t feeling well. He brushes a stray bug off his leg, re-adjusting his position for the eighth time in as many minutes and shifting his bag so it doesn’t smack into his hip.

“ _Puta madre_ , when is _he_ leaving?”

Hopefully soon, because Vasquez has been out here so long his legs are starting to cramp. _He perks up as one of the personnel leaves the enclosure, but is disappointed when the figure gets into one of the beaten vans in the makeshift parking lot and drives away._ Ten more minutes hiding like a creeper in the bushes, and a man leaves the velociraptor pen.

Vasquez watches closely, following the man to a parked motorcycle. Seems like Owen Grady has finally decided to go home. He doesn’t wait for him to leave, and all but runs to his truck hidden on the embankment. **Vasquez** starts the car and halts until the motorcycle goes by him.

He follows Grady in the opposite direction he knows the nearest habitation block to be. On the island, worker homesteads and apartments are usually near the park itself or peppered around its enclosures.

Vasquez was hoping he could feign living near the man, but it seemed Owen liked living isolated from both the park and his colleagues. This was only a problem if he got caught trailing him, so Antonio let some more distance between them and hoped Grady didn’t look back. They drive for about ten minutes, until they reach one of the small rivers that branch out from the mountain streams. Owen starts slowing down, and he does his best to park as quietly as possible behind some nearby trees.

He watches with bated breath as the trainer grinds to a halt near a shack, only exhaling when the man crosses the threshold. Seems he didn’t notice Vasquez was following him. He fidgets with his bag strap, tightening his hold on it. It was already starting to get dark out, one more hour and he should be safe to get close to the house. The scientist spends the time alternating between dragging all the documents out of the bag and going through them several times and sneaking glances at the house to see if Grady had seen him after all. If he was going to do this, he had to do it now.

 _“Vamos Antonio”_ he whispers to himself. _“Mamá no crio un cobarde.”_

Vasquez gathers his strength and opens the car door, getting out and closing the door behind him silently. He makes a beeline for the house, staying near the tree line for as long as possible. And then crosses the yard as fast as possible, hunching to try and stay away from the windows overlooking it.

The Mexican is thankful that Owen doesn’t have a dog. He huddles near the front entrance, riffling as quietly as he can through his bag. Antonio considers the shabby mail slot before grimacing and shoving the papers under the door. As soon as he’s made sure the documents won’t fly away, Antonio all but runs back to his jeep, abandoning the earlier plan of crouching in favor of speed. He sneaks a look at the trailer as he struggles with the gears and floors it when he sees Owen looking in his direction.

By the time Grady is twenty feet from his house, Antonio is up the road and disappearing into the foliage.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've made a couple of moodboards for this fic on my tumblr, if anyone wants to check those out:  
> http://cieldelarose.tumblr.com/post/174912476977/vasquez-is-a-geneticist-at-ingen-who-joined  
> http://cieldelarose.tumblr.com/post/175046382722/billy-and-goodnight-robicheaux-part-of-ingens  
> http://cieldelarose.tumblr.com/post/175024344447/vasquez-is-a-geneticist-at-ingen-who-joined-the


End file.
